


I Hate Mess, But I Love You

by thelonelyislander



Category: Brooklyn Nine-Nine (TV)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Canon Divergence, Chaptered, Episode: s02e17 Boyle-Linetti Wedding, Eventual Fluff, Eventual Romance, F/M, Get ready for lots of Pining!Amy, Getting Together, Light Angst, Missing Scene, Mutual Pining, POV Alternating, Pining, Pre-Relationship, Some Humor, and also Hurt!Amy (Why does she keep getting hurt in my fics? Ah 'cause we love Protective!Jake)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-10
Updated: 2019-07-31
Packaged: 2020-06-25 22:25:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,171
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19754980
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thelonelyislander/pseuds/thelonelyislander
Summary: Canon divergence where Jake gets his slow dance with Jenny. The Minsk case puts Amy's life in danger, and Jake realises that something bad can go down any day. Jake and Amy may not have had their 'weird romantic moment thing-y' at the Boyle-Linetti wedding, but maybe they will have so much more.[Basically three chapters of Pining!Amy plus a bonus fourth chapter from Jake's POV. ♥]





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Title from the song _Take Me Or Leave Me (Rent)_.
> 
> July is special to me because it's my birth month. I don't usually give myself gifts, but I realised that these past few weeks, I'd given myself the much-needed gift of becoming reacquainted with writing. I have always loved to write, but it's been so long since I churned out anything purely for pleasure (that is, not something required of me by a professor or a boss).
> 
> So, here's another thing that no one asked for. I hope we can all enjoy it together (title of my sex tape).

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Amy clings to whatever semblance of order she can maintain in the hope that it will temper the maelstrom of emotion which surfaces whenever she thinks of Jake and what could have been._

Amy proofreads her arrest report thrice over before signing her name at the bottom. The finishing touch is sticking a little flag where the commanding officer's signature will go, even though she knows perfectly well that Captain Holt does not need to be shown where to sign. It’s just a habit she formed in the days of Captain McGinley and has not shaken off. She quickly locates the designated flags in her drawer, because of course she uses draw organisers, and her drawer organisers have sub-organisers; she is nothing if not a recursive vortex of order.

"Organi-ception" is what Jake calls it, since that time he rode shotgun in her car and saw that her glove compartment had been fitted with sub-compartments. ( _Her response was to point out that because of the movie, ‘inception’ had become commonly misconstrued to mean ‘thing within a thing’ when it actually means ‘the beginning’. Jake smiled and said, ‘You are so consistent.’ Amy beamed, and may or may not have felt a flurry near her sternum._ )

Anyway. Mornings like this convince Amy that her routine is a well-oiled machine, and everything in her life fits into neat little squares.

Pleased that she has accomplished a task with four minutes to spare from the allotted thirty-minute segment, Amy glances across her desk. She sees furrowed brows, lips tightly pressed, brown hair ruffled as usual, and a navy tie slightly askew; Jake is deep in thought. He looks up briefly and meets her gaze, the corner of his mouth lifting just a tiny bit – really, no more than two millimetres – before his focus shifts back to the file he’s reading, and again, something stubbornly flits in Amy’s chest.

Okay, _almost_ everything in her life fits into neat little squares.

What she feels for Jake Peralta cannot be contained in a box, nor in any receptacle within the known planes of human existence. It is an obstinate shapeshifting creature that she dutifully caged away when Jake was dating Sophia, and which had begun hammering forcefully against the grills following their breakup. 

“Have you not had coffee yet?” he asks, his voice tinged with amusement.

She blinks. “What?”

“You’re kind of spacing out over there.” He doesn’t even have to look up.

Another thrum reverberates in her chest cavity. “Actually, I might’ve had too much.” 

Amy clings to whatever semblance of order she can maintain in the hope that it will temper the maelstrom of emotion which surfaces whenever she thinks of Jake and what could have been. As far as she is concerned, it's crazy to think that they can still be a thing at this point. They've both been single for a while, and if it were still a possibility, surely he would have done or said something by now. After all, he'd dropped "romantic-stylez" when there was so much more at stake.

She sighs and goes back to work.

* * *

“It’s Amy Santiago, everyone!” Jake announces to no one in particular as Amy walks up to the bar later that night. Shaw's is pretty full for a Tuesday night, and thankfully no one pays much attention to Jake's antics.

“Ha. Dum-dum’s still high on dental anaesthesia,” Rosa murmurs over her drink.

“Peralta went to the dentist’s? Doesn’t he only go once every four years or something?” Amy says as she takes the seat next to Rosa, unable to mask her disapproval of Jake’s dental hygiene.

“Yeah, but one of the suspected dealers of the black market painkiller we’re tracking is a dentist, and he had to distract the guy while I searched his office.” 

“This girl don’t need no dentists, y’all!” Jake yells gleefully, pointing at Amy. “She is a great brusher and her smile is beau-ti-ful,” he says, spacing each syllable with a jab. Amy isn't certain if Jake is complimenting her or making fun of her, but either way, there is a familiar prickling at the tips of her ears.

“O-kay, time to get you out of here,” Rosa says, sliding off of the bar stool, but she stops when she sees Marcus approaching.

“Surprise,” Marcus says, coming up to plant a kiss on Rosa’s cheek. “I thought maybe we could catch the last screening of _The Intern._ ”

“Actually, I have to get this idiot home,” she says, nodding towards Jake.

“Heyyy Marcus, my man! I see you’ve come to bone with Rosa!” Jake calls. He adds in a stage whisper, “Don’t cha worry, I won’t tell Captain Holt.”

“Got him!” Amy interjects, dragging Jake by the shoulders to forestall his inevitable murder at Rosa’s hands. “You guys have fun. I’ll take care of Peralta.”

She steers Jake away from a fuming Rosa and a laughing Marcus, and manages to shove him into a cab.

Jake cooperates when they pull over outside his building, but the walk up to Jake’s apartment is a bigger struggle, what with his stopping to greet each person and object they pass.

Finally, they reach his door. Amy holds her hand out to Jake. “Keys?” 

Jake fumbles in his pockets and produces a tin of mints. Amy rolls her eyes, and it takes Jake a moment to realise that she is still looking at him impatiently. When he finally locates his keys, she snatches them from his hands and all but pushes him inside once the door is open.

“You smell really nice, Santiago. Your hair. _Apples_. Shiny too. Always so shiny,” Jake mumbles. His chin rests on the top of Amy’s head as the pair stumbles through the doorway to the general direction of the bed.

“Didn’t know you were obsessed with my teeth _and_ my hair, Peralta,” Amy teases as she helps Jake perch at the edge of the bed and remove his sneakers.

“‘M obsessed with everything about you,” Jake murmurs with closed eyes, appearing half-asleep. The words make Amy’s ears burn, and she has to remind herself that it’s the drugs talking.

With some effort, she gets him to lie down, although she’s sure his arms are at an uncomfortable angle and he’ll definitely wake up with pins and needles in his limbs and a crick in his neck.

“Wanna have a sleepover?” Jake says, eyes popping open as Amy straightens up and brushes her slacks down.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” she responds.

“But you have the beautifulest smile and it makes everything better and I really like you,” Jake protests.

“That’s not even a word, Peralta. And you are so gonna regret this tomorrow,” Amy says, shaking her head. She has half a mind to whip out her phone and take a video of High-As-A-Kite Jake, because had the roles been reversed, that was most certainly what he would have done.

But a small, shameful part of her wants him to mean every stupid anaesthesia-induced word. She weightlessly places a hand on his cheek, ignoring how her heart races when he nuzzles into her palm.

“Good night, Jake.”

“‘Night, Amy.”

* * *

The next morning, Amy receives intel that Gregor Minsk, a counterfeiter she has been chasing for two years, has resurfaced.

Fuelled by her special hatred of criminals with no regard for correct spelling and grammar, she types furiously at her keyboard, piecing together everything she has on him so far. This is just the kind of motivation that she needs to take her mind off other... feelings.

She is so engrossed in pulling up Minsk’s old files that she doesn’t notice Jake come in until a hand sets a muffin down in front of her. 

“Sorry for the trouble, Amy.” 

Amy looks up to see Jake scratching lightly at the back of his neck, and she thinks he’s almost blushing.She wonders how much he remembers from the night before. 

“Rosa told me I was saying weird stuff.”

“Nothing I couldn’t handle,” Amy says. (It's a lie.) “Don’t mention it, Jake.”

He gives her a sheepish grin – a rare sight at the precinct – before he ambles off to the break room.

Of course she doesn’t mention that _one_ , she has been hearing _‘obsessed with everything about you’_ and _'I really like you'_ on repeat since her cab ride home last night, _two,_ remembering the feeling of his pressing his nose and lips into her hair to take in her scent kept her awake for most of the night, and _three_ , she came in nearly two hours early today, desperately needing a distraction. Now even the mental library she’d been building on Minsk has practically collapsed from the impact of Jake’s shy smile.

She looks at the pastry on her desk and tries not to read too much into the fact that he’s gotten her an _apple_ crumble muffin. She’s seven minutes ahead of schedule and it’s time for a break anyway, so she grabs her mug and her muffin and follows Jake’s lead.

“You won’t need a plus one, will you, Jakey? Rosa says she’s not bringing Marcus,” she hears Charles say as she nears the break room, sounding disappointed. “I was rooting so much for him.”

“Lay off her, Boyle. She might not be ready for that kind of thing. But I most definitely am! And no plus one for me, ‘cause the one I’ll be slow dancing with is already on the guest list,” Jake says excitedly.

Amy’s feet turn to stone just outside the break room door.

If Jake is thinking of her, maybe it _isn't_ so crazy to surmise that they could still be a thing. As if to match the hope rising in her core, the temperature in her ears begins to shoot up and –

“Jenny Gildenhorn will be at the wedding!”

– she is doused immediately with ice-cold reality.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Then she remembers: The wedding. The three-button jacket. Jenny. Dancing. His hand resting dangerously low on her back. Her hand clasped around his. Jake finally with someone he’s wanted for two decades – over half of his life._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I request your patience and suspension of disbelief for the medical inaccuracies contained in this (dialogue-heavy) chapter.

“This is really helpful, Bonnie. Minsk can’t have gone far.”

“Hey, Detective Santiago? Word on the street is Minsk is out again ‘cause he’s got someone backing him now. Someone big.”

“All the more reason to arrest him, then,” Amy tells her informant.

“Yeah, but… He’s dangerous, y’know? Be careful.” 

Amy’s heart swells a little at the thought that Bonnie is worried about her. She really does have the best C.I.s; those thank-you cards are well worth the trouble. “Don’t worry. Call me if you hear anything,” she says before ending the call. 

Jake’s crappy car has broken down again and Amy now regrets offering to give him a lift to the jeweller’s and to the ceremony. He hasn’t shut up about Jenny for the past three days, and she’s certain that today will be no exception.

Amy fishes her infinity necklace from her purse and starts putting it on. She’s still fiddling with the clasp when Jake opens the passenger’s side door. 

“Here, let me,” he insists, taking the gold chain from her hands.

She really hopes he doesn’t notice the shivers running down her spine as his fingers graze her neck. 

“Looking good, Santiago.”

“Thanks," she answers. "You look pretty sharp yourself.”

It’s true. Jake has put effort into taming his unruly hair, and his rented tux fits him surprisingly well. But she knows he’s dressed up tonight for a reason: He’s a man on a mission, and the mission doesn’t involve her in any way, shape, or form. 

Amy has also spent time on getting her hair and makeup right (if she's to do it all, she'll do it well).

Of course, after Bonnie’s second call, she would mess up her hair, dress, and blazer before even reaching the venue, but finally collaring Minsk is well worth it. 

* * *

“Made it in time!” Jake announces as they enter the ceremony hall.

“Ew, Amy! Your dress is filthy,” Gina says, mouth upturned in disgust. “Luckily I brought you a spare outfit.” 

Amy is about to protest when Jake touches her shoulder. “It's Jenny. She's here.” He spins towards Amy, looking endearingly nervous. “How do I look?”

She forces an encouraging smile. “You look great. Go get her, Bond.”

“Thanks, Maxi Pads.”

Jake turns and walks towards a pretty brunette. She greets him enthusiastically and leans in for a hug. 

“Jake, wait!” Gina calls. “What are you doing? Give me the ring.” 

Jake reaches in his coat pocket and pulls out his tin of mints.

Amy bites her lip, remembering how he’d done the same thing just a few nights ago, how he'd said more than he ought to, and how he’d pressed his cheek into her palm shortly afterwards.

He finally pulls out the ring, appeasing Gina, and disappears into the ceremony hall with Jenny.

* * *

There is a pleasant buzz in Amy’s head as her eyes roam the dance floor. The lights are low and tempting, and she attempts to recall the last time she danced with anyone. She realises it’s at the amateur dance competition before Jake went undercover.

_Your dress makes you look like a mermaid._

She tries not to seek him out, but she can’t help it; it’s another habit she can’t shake off.

Day in and day out for the past five years, she has instinctively kept Jake in the corner of her eye, slowly learning to go along with his crazy schemes, ready to give backup when needed. Looking for him, at him, is second nature to her now, whether they’re undercover in the field or sitting across from each other at the precinct.

And so Jake takes his usual spot in her peripheral vision. Amy sees his hand slide down to the small of Jenny’s back as they sway to the music, his eyes glistening under the spinning disco lights. Amy looks away.

Rosa is nowhere to be found, which is not surprising because she’d vanished when Marcus arrived. Charles is dancing with Lynn, and Gina, with Darlene. Captain and Sarge are long gone, having left early with their spouses.

Amy decides that it’s time to go, too, and maybe get an early start on her arrest report for Minsk over the weekend. Maybe throwing herself into her work will prove to be an effective diversion, much like it was when she refused to deal with her emotions left in entropy after Jake's confession. She slips out of the hall quietly and is met by a chilly breeze as soon as she steps outside.

Sitting behind the steering wheel, she sees Jake’s discarded cummerbund on the passenger’s seat. She freezes at the thought that Jake probably won’t be needing a ride tonight... if he’s going home with Jenny. Still, he deserves a heads up, and he _was_ a great partner today.

Sighing, Amy composes a text: _‘Hey, I felt tired so I went ahead. Thanks again for your help today! See you on Monday, 007.’_

Just as she is about to hit send, an unknown number flashes across her screen. She thinks it may be one of her C.I.s; they're always changing numbers.

“Hello?” she answers tentatively.

“Detective Santiago." It's a male voice she doesn't recognise. “You should’ve kept your hands off Minsk. You’ve caused quite a stir in our operations.”

Her shoulders stiffen. “Who is this?” 

“Consider this our payback.”

Before she can react, blinding headlights appear from her left, getting brighter and brighter until she feels the impact of another car ramming hers. Then everything goes dark.

* * *

Amy’s vision is bleary when she comes to, but she sees the afternoon sun filtering in through the blinds, and she recognises a familiar figure sitting in the corner of the room.

Her mouth feels parched, and when she croaks “ _¿_ _Mamá?_ ” her voice is raspy.

“ _¡_ _Mija!_ ” her mother gasps, flying from her seat to fling her arms around Amy. “Victor, call the doctor!”

“What happened?” Amy whispers. 

“Oh, _mija_ , you were in an accident. They put you in an induced coma to reduce the risk of swelling in your brain.”

Amy shuts her eyes, and it comes in bits and pieces: a strange man’s voice on the phone, the dark interior of her car drowned by a blinding light.

Her head weighs twice as much as she remembers, and her chest feels tight and sore. Her left arm is in a cast, but she can wiggle all her fingers and toes, and she knows she has been insanely lucky.

“How long was I out?”

“Three days,” Camila says softly. 

Her mother steps back as a doctor conducts tests to assess her cognitive functions.

“Is it too early to tell her colleagues the good news, Doctor?” Camila asks.

“She’s not ready to take a lot of visitors just yet. Maybe one at a time.”

“We should at least tell Jake,” Camila says to Victor.

“You’ve met Jake?” Amy asks. She watches the doctor scribble on a chart.

“He’s here every day,” Victor grumbles, sounding annoyed.

Amy has so many questions, but she feels her head growing heavier by the second, and she soon drifts off to sleep again.

* * *

Later, when Amy wakes up again, it’s already dark, and the room is illuminated by a bedside lamp. Camila walks over to adjust her pillow.

“Who’s looking after Matthew and Mason while you’re here?” Amy asks.

Camila sighs. “I told your brothers to adjust their shifts, but knowing them, they probably just hired a babysitter,” she says with a shudder.

Camila has distrusted babysitters and day care centres ever since she saw a Dateline episode showing the abuses experienced by children left in the care of strangers. She insists on caring for her own grandchildren, and Amy can only imagine the havoc that her three-day absence has caused in the extended Santiago family schedule.

“You should go home, _Mamá_ ,” Amy says, “They need you.”

“You need me too,” Camila replies. “Someone has to look after you for the next two weeks.”

“I’ll ask Kylie to stay over for a bit,” Amy says, shrugging. “And my friends from work can drop by. That’s usually what we do when someone’s injured.”

“I’m sure Jake would be more than willing,” Camila says slowly.

“Well yeah,” Amy replies. “He’s my partner and my friend.”

Camila raises an eyebrow. “Just your friend?”

“Why do I feel you won’t believe me?”

“I’m sorry, _mija_ , but you should have seen him when we first got here. He was still wearing a tuxedo and he was so disheveled… his eyes were all red and he could barely speak. In your stories you make it seem like he's so talkative. And your cummerbund? The maroon one from your jazz band uniform? He was clutching it for dear life… it was like something out of a telenovela.”

“You have clearly seen too many telenovelas,” Amy says. She wants to roll her eyes but it makes her dizzy.

“It’s not just that. He wouldn’t take his eyes off of you, like he was afraid you’d disappear if he looked away for too long. He only agreed to go home after the first twenty-four hour period had passed.”

“He just cares about his friends a lot, that’s all,” Amy says quietly, “I would’ve done the same.”

“Yes. As a _friend_ , of course,” Camila says, her voice dripping with innuendo. 

Amy doesn’t challenge her mother. She knows where she gets her stubbornness from.

“ _Mija_ , it would make me feel so much better if you stay with us up in Jersey so all my _bebés_ will be under one roof. Just please think about it?”

Amy sighs and closes her eyes. “I will.”

* * *

It's morning, Amy realises as she opens her eyes. She still feels like she’s grown another head, but her vision has adjusted a bit.

Someone is on the seat previously occupied by her mother. When Amy focuses, she sees that it's Jake, with his forearms resting on his knees and his hands twisting nervously. She smiles at him, and he pads towards the bed slowly.

“Hey,” he says.

“Hey. Shouldn’t you be at work?”

“It’s only seven-thirty.”

“No way. If it were seven-thirty, you’d still be asleep. This is definitely a dream, Peralta.”

Jake lets out a shaky breath, a ghost of a chuckle. Amy senses that he’s still too tense to laugh.

“You scared me – us – back there,” he says.

“Sorry.”

“Don’t be. It’s not your fault.” Jake crosses his arms and takes a deep breath. His posture is stiff and his words come haltingly: “Listen, Minsk squealed. He says he was hired by the Lucianos. We’re building a case against them.” 

“Good,” Amy responds, prompting Jake to continue. But he doesn’t, and the silence stretches awkwardly between them.

“You didn’t say you were leaving,” Jake murmurs, his voice uncharacteristically soft.

“I didn’t want to be a party pooper,” Amy says. “I was going to text you, but before I could send it...”

Jake looks away, and Amy wishes she’d chosen her words better.

“I just keep thinking, maybe if I’d walked you to your car…”

“Jake, don’t,” Amy says with all the force she can muster. “They probably would’ve targeted us both. You arrested him too. Who would work the case then?”

Jake nods slightly in concession. She takes the time to study his face. She knows she can’t look much better, but she notices the dark circles under his eyes and the tension on his upper lip. His hair is mussed up again, a far cry from how he’d styled it for the wedding.

Then she remembers: The wedding. The three-button jacket. Jenny. Dancing. His hand resting dangerously low on her back. Her hand clasped around his. Jake finally with someone he’s wanted for two decades – over half of his life. 

_‘So, you're really okay with me and Jenny Gildenhorn, huh?’_

_‘Totally. Stuff with us is in the past. We talked about that.’_

Amy feigns a yawn to offset the growing discomfort she feels. She is not used to feeling awkward around Jake.

He seems to take the cue. “I should go. Holt will be furious if I miss another shift.”

Amy frowns. “How many have you missed?”

“Not important!” he stammers. “So, your mom says you might be discharged today. If you are, I’ll try to swing by your place later.”

Amy hopes she won’t regret what she is about to say.

“Actually, I’m going up to Jersey with my parents for a bit.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _She muses that by lacing his fingers through hers, Jake is convincing himself that this is real and that she isn’t going anywhere. Silently, she thinks the same thing; feeling the warmth and weight of Jake’s hand in hers is a comforting tangible manifestation that finally,_ finally _this is happening._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welp, it took me longer to post this last chapter than I'd anticipated, so to make amends, I've thrown in a bonus chapter told from Jake's POV!
> 
> Apologies again for the heavy dialogue in this chapter! Hopefully you'll like what these idiots have to say. :)

Amy is ready to go.

Except her mother insists on quadruple-checking the fuse box and all the doorknobs even though her father has been waiting in the car for five minutes after having loaded the bags. Sometimes Amy marvels that Camila wasn’t born a Santiago.

Amy had been discharged that afternoon. Her mother’s thoroughness and efficiency help her finish packing two weeks’ worth of clothes and toiletries in just an hour despite the fact that Amy’s left arm is in a cast, and her broken ribs mean she can’t lift anything heavier than a pot of coffee.

“We have to get going, Mamá. You know how impatient Papá gets,” Amy says, feeling a dull ache in her neck and slightly regretting the decision to turn down the cervical collar in favor of active physiotherapy.

They hear a knock on the door.

“Come on, he’ll be ranting about this the entire trip,” Amy whines, expecting to see an irate Victor Santiago on the other side of the door, tapping his wristwatch (punctuality practically runs in Santiagos’ blood, but he never missed an opportunity to reinforce it when his children go astray).

Instead, behind the door is an out-of-breath Jake Peralta, bent over with his wrists pressing on his knees. “Hi,” he huffs.

“Jake,” Amy says, suppressing a smile. “What are you doing here?”

“I came to give you this,” he says, still panting, and reaches in his shirt pocket to pull out a tiny mesh drawstring bag.

Amy opens it and sees that her infinity necklace is inside. It hadn’t matched the backup dress Gina lent her for the wedding, so Amy left it in Gina’s safekeeping with her soiled clothes.

“Thanks, Jake. Um. We were just about to leave,” she says slowly, buying some time for Jake to catch his breath. She tucks the pouch snugly in the pocket of her jeans.

“I’ll join your father in the car,” Camila says, planting a kiss on Amy’s temple. She pats Jake's shoulder as he lets her pass.

Camila glances back at Amy with raised eyebrows, as if their earlier conversation about Jake’s intentions hadn’t ended, and his present actions are only working to prove her point.

“Can we talk?” Jake asks once he thinks Camila is out of earshot.

“Oh. Well, uh... It’s not such a good idea to keep my dad waiting. He’s a bit of a stickler for time,” Amy says, trying to think of what could be so urgent that Jake couldn’t bring it up through text or email.

She studies Jake’s face by the hallway light to hypothesise if it’s good or bad news. He is not wearing his usual goofy grin; he looks determined, but he isn’t distraught. 

His lip twitches as he says, “A Santiago being a stickler for time? No way.”

Amy laughs softly, and she wants to linger, but the thought of her parents sitting impatiently in the car is highly discouraging. She pushes away the thought that she will miss Jake's teasing in the days she’ll be spending in New Jersey. 

Jake must sense her internal conflict, so he continues, “Actually I ran into him on my way up, and he did _not_ look happy to see me. Not that he ever looks happy to see me. It isn't like I’m losing any brownie points with him, so went ahead and told him I needed to talk to you before you go.”

Amy’s eyebrows shoot up; even for Jake, that seems pretty bold. “Oh, okay. What did you want to talk about?”

Jake takes a moment before responding: “You remember how, at the dessert bar at the reception, you told me I was getting too many mini cheesecakes and I said you’re practically being a rude guest if you don’t get at least three of every kind?”

“Yeah?”

Amy frowns. Jake wants to discuss the _dessert bar_ of all things? And right now?

“It was the last thing I’d said to you.”

Jake shifts uneasily, but she doesn’t respond, mostly because she doesn’t know what to say. She hopes Jake will continue so she can make sense of the point that he is trying to get across.

“That was all I could think about, when I was sitting with you in the hospital, waiting for your parents to arrive. If you...” he trails off slightly and crosses his arms as he looks away.

“If you hadn’t made it, or if you were in an actual coma and never woke up, the last thing I would have said to you was about some stupid cheesecakes.”

Amy’s heart begins to race, and if only to offset it, she is tempted to make a quip about cheesecakes not being _that_ stupid – that at least they have protein unlike Jake’s usual dessert choices that that are two hundred percent sugar. She feels Jake is being serious right now, though, and it’s usually Jake who breaks her serious moments, not the other way around. His gaze is pinned to the hinge of Amy’s door, but a beat later, he trains his eyes on her.

“Something bad can go down any day.” 

Amy’s eyes widen and she feels her lips part slightly at the realisation of where he might be going with this. _‘If something bad goes down…’_

“I still like you, Amy,” he tells her, the intensity in his eyes growing by the millisecond. “I wanted to get past it, when you were with Teddy. I really did. I tried seeing other people. That’s mostly why I started dating Sophia.” 

A bittersweet smile crosses Jake’s face and he shakes his head as if chastising himself.

“For a while I led myself to believe that I could be happy with her, but the truth is…”

He looks at Amy again. “I am happiest when I’m with you. And I know you said the stuff with us is in the past, but I still wish that something could happen between us, that I can maybe make you happy too. I just didn’t want you to leave without telling you that. I almost didn’t get the chance to.”

Amy is stunned.

She can barely process how Jake has been reciprocating her feelings all along, and yet she hadn’t been able to pick up on it (were they really both detectives?). Part of it owed to the fact that he made a show of trying to see other people, like he said, the most recent instance of which involved Jenny.

“Jake,” she says, trying to keep an even tone, “I still feel the same way, too.”

Jake looks confused, but pleasantly so.

“But…” Amy sighs, “What about Jenny?”

“What _about_ Jenny?” sounding almost like he doesn’t see Jenny’s relevance in all of this.

“Aren’t you… I thought you were seeing her?”

“I’m not,” he says, shrugging, “To be honest, I don’t think I really meant to.”

“You’ve been staring at her online for the past twenty years, Jake,” Amy says, raising her eyebrows. “Your words.”

Jake uncrosses his arms and lets out a deep breath. “Well, yes, but please hear me out.”

Amy nods. “Go on.”

“I think I needed that slow dance. You know, just to get it out of my system. I mean it _was_ a stupid hang-up that I’ve had since I was thirteen.” he says, placing his hands in his pockets and rocking on the balls of his feet. “Also, it helped put things in perspective.”

“What do you mean?”

“When I was with her, I kept wishing I was with you instead.” A sheepish grin begins to show on Jake’s face. “Except... with you, I’d like more than just a slow dance. I want to have terrible, stepping-on-both-my-feet-at-the-same-time dancing, as often as I can get it.”

Amy rolls her eyes, but she can’t fight the smile that forms on her lips. 

Seemingly encouraged by this, Jake goes on, “And not just that. We’ll have the dinner dates and the silly drinking that come before that. We’ll have the desperately-needed foot rubs that come afterwards… and whatever will follow.” 

He bites his lip. “I'd like all of that. With you. If you’d be into it.”

Amy wants to say, _‘Of course I’d be into that, you idiot. It’s taken us long enough,’_ but she isn’t one to back down when Jake tries to make light of things through humour.

“I might be,” she says softly, and Jake inhales sharply. “But just not right now... On account of the injuries,” she says in mock-seriousness, and when he picks up on her meaning, Amy swears that his smile lights up the whole apartment even though the fuse box is definitely switched off (again, Camila had made sure of that). 

“Also, my parents are waiting in the car,” she adds.

“Oh, right.” Jake visibly deflates like he’s just remembered where they are, and he looks like he misses her already. “Do you need help carrying anything?”

Amy looks around her apartment, which is growing increasingly dark as the sun begins to set.

“Yeah. You’ll need to carry my stuff back to the apartment.”

Jake gapes at her, his eyes twinkling with mirth, and Amy can’t help giggling though it hurts her broken ribs. They step out into the hallway, and Amy locks the door behind them.

“Your parents are going to hate me,” Jake says, finally managing a wide grin this time.

“Well, like you said, it’s not like you’re losing any brownie points with my dad,” Amy reminds him as they make their way to the front exit.

“Yeah, but I thought your mom was starting to like me, at least.”

“Actually," Amy says, picturing the classic ‘I told you so’ expression her mother will give the moment she tells them her change of plans, "She’s probably expecting this.” 

Jake looks at her curiously, but he doesn’t pry. It’s a conversation for another time.

Instead, he takes her hand and presses it against his cheek, a testament to the seemingly silly things he’d said while under the influence just a few nights back, and how sincere they were after all. The gesture means so many things, Amy realises. _I was so scared I’d lost you. I’m glad that you feel the same way. Thank you for staying here with me._

He lets go of her hand to hold the door open for her, and reaches for it again once they step outside. Amy remembers her mother's story about Jake clutching her cummerbund. She muses that by lacing his fingers through hers, Jake is convincing himself that this is real and that she isn’t going anywhere. Silently, she thinks the same thing; feeling the warmth and weight of Jake’s hand in hers is a comforting tangible manifestation that finally, _finally_ this is happening.

Amy is ready to stay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Phew, finished it before the month ended!
> 
> Head on over to the next chapter for a little bonus. :D


	4. Bonus - Jake's POV

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _He does end up keeping her._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As you can tell from the title, this bonus chapter is told from Jake's POV, and it fills in some of the missing scenes from the story. Enjoy!

Jake wakes up from a weird dream where he’s telling Amy she smells nice and he really likes her, while she is somehow wrestling him onto the bed (Fully clothed! Get your mind out of the gutter!).

When he tries to move, pins and needles prickle in his arms, and he ends up rolling off and falling flat on the floor. Not the best way to start the day.

Then he sees that he is still in yesterday’s clothes, remembers the trip to the dentist and the anaesthesia administered to him, and realises that maybe the weird dream wasn’t just a dream.

_Oh crap._

He lunges for his phone and sees a text that Amy had sent the night before: ‘ _Left your keys on one of the hooks by the shoe rack. See you at work!’_

She didn’t sound angry or pissed, which is a relief.

He peels off his clothes and steps into the shower, willing the cold water to wake his psyche. He desperately tries to think back on the things that happened last night, and he hopes he hadn’t really said everything he thinks he might have said.

On the way to work, he stops by a cafe to grab a coffee with three espresso shots. He orders a muffin for Amy, stumbling a little as he says ‘apple crumble’. Something niggles in the back of his mind that he may or may not have told Amy last night that she smells like apples.

He fidgets nervously with his phone as he waits for his order to be served.

A text comes in from Gina: ‘ _Guess who’ll be at the wedding’_

 _‘u got mr met to go like i asked? goose u genius!!!’_ he sends.

 _‘No, doofus. Jenny Gildenhorn is going.’_ Gina replies in a matter of seconds. 

Despite the fried state of his brain, Jake feels something click from its general area.

It is universal knowledge that Jake has been passively hung up on Jenny Gildenhorn for the past twenty years. He has a theory that her unceremoniously dumping him at his bar mitzvah is somehow the root of his failed relationships, so he has kept tabs on hers to see if her love life was faring just as dismally. He knows for a fact that she is currently single, and now he also knows that he can act on it in a matter of days.

Except... for the past few weeks, he’s been thinking of asking Amy out. He just hasn’t worked out the how, or where, or when, or any of the details, really. And he knows how important details are to Amy. 

He figures it won’t hurt to talk to Jenny at the wedding, and maybe get that slow dance he’d been denied all those years ago. It sounds like the plot of a bad rom-com, he thinks, and he curses that his life isn’t more like _Die Hard_.

* * *

Jenny has aged gracefully. Not that this is news to Jake; he has been checking her social media profile with unhealthy frequency. Conversation flows surprisingly well between them considering they haven’t seen each other in years, and she is enthusiastic when he asks her to dance. Overall, it seems like tonight has been a win.

There’s just one problem: Jenny isn’t Amy. 

He almost hates to admit it, but as much as he has anticipated getting to dance with Jenny, the best part of the day was getting to play James Bond with Amy (Maxi Pads).

Earlier that evening, he’d stolen a glance at Amy when Lynn and Darlene were engaging rings. Her lips had been curved into a smile, small and proper, but there was despondency in her eyes. She looked almost wistful, like she was watching something beautiful unfold, knowing it would never happen for her.

Which is crazy. 

Amy Santiago is a divine being with the intensity of a comet. Her consistency is an assuring anchor, and her kindness is refreshing in a time where people tend to sacrifice what is right for what is easy. She deserves happiness that matches the order and beauty she brings to the world – especially his world.

He wonders if he can give her that happiness.

She deserves to know how amazing she is, and how he thinks about that every day, but instead he’s given her a hurried parking lot confession and a clumsy drugged-up reaffirmation of his feelings. Truthfully, he is more like the unwanted celestial lump that hurtles towards Amy and knocks her out of orbit. 

So now he keeps his hand on Jenny’s back, swaying to the slow rhythm of the awful music Charles has put on. He forces himself not to look at Amy, who, last time he checked, was by herself in a corner of the dance floor. 

But he does (he can’t help it) and... Amy is gone. Maybe she went to the restroom?

Jake's brows furrow and he stiffens slightly.

“Is something wrong?” Jenny asks.

“No, this is fine,” Jake says, more to himself than to Jenny.

When the second song ends, he slowly releases Jenny. She looks up at him expectantly. “Want to get out of here?”

Jake isn't sure what to say. The rational thing of course is to take her up on the offer. He had been going on and on about how Jenny was about to become his girlfriend after that evening. But his mind is still on Amy (Is she okay? How is she going home? Can she drive?), and that may prove to be a dampener on this whatever-it-is that he’s trying to start with Jenny.

Then they hear sirens nearby. Too near. Jake’s cop instincts kick in.

“Uh, sorry, but I’d better check that out,” he says. 

He catches Charles’s eye and they head out.

“Bye! Nice seeing you!” he calls out to Jenny, so she knows not to wait for him. She looks appalled. Oh well.

Jake and Charles sprint to the reception area and step outside. Jake realises where the sirens were coming from, and his heart stops.

Amy had parked along the street because they’d gotten to the wedding at the last minute and the parking lot was already full. And that spot is now flanked by patrol cars, an ambulance, and a fire truck, and a fire rescue team is hacking at the windshield and roof of her car. He hopes against all rationality that she is not inside, but he knows an extrication procedure when he sees one.

“Isn’t that…” Charles gasps.

Jake doesn’t respond. Maybe if he doesn’t say it out loud, it hasn’t really happened.

* * *

Jake can’t make sense of what Rosa is saying to Victor and Camila. They’ve only known her for five minutes but they’ve already warmed up to her. Jake has been dropping by every day (sometimes during work hours, to Captain Holt's frustration) yet Victor still looks at him suspiciously. 

He really should have paid more attention in Spanish class in high school.

 _“Hasta luego,”_ Camila says to Rosa. She waves at Jake, and she and Victor step out of the room.

Rosa walks over. “Told them to grab something decent to eat. They’ve been having cafeteria food for two days,” she says.

Jake hums in response. His eyes are on Amy, who has been in a medically-induced coma for forty-eight hours now.

“Hey,” Rosa says, placing a hand on his shoulder, “She’ll be okay.”

Jake nods and stifles a yawn. He wants it to be true, of course. But between taking over the Minsk case and coming here to visit Amy, Jake hasn’t been getting much sleep (not that he hasn’t tried).

“You still like her don’t you?”

Jake feels like he’s been splashed with ice-cold water, all drowsiness now gone. He straightens up in his seat.

“I don’t know, maybe.”

Rosa raises an eyebrow at him, and he knows it’s useless to lie to her.

“Fine, I still like her. But that’s not really important, considering the circumstances.”

Rosa crosses her arms and studies him for a moment. Then she kicks him in the ankle. “Here’s what’s gonna happen. We’re gonna work the case and get whoever did this to her. When she wakes up, you’re gonna tell her we’re taking care of it, and you’re gonna tell her how you feel.”

It sounds more like an order than a piece of advice, and Jake is almost thankful that he isn’t being asked to decide anything.

* * *

The drive to Amy’s apartment is nerve-wracking. He knows what he is going to say, though he needed another sort-of (partly terrifying) pep talk from Rosa. He parks behind another car, and when he gets out he notices that the other car’s engine is running and Victor is sitting in the driver’s seat.

“Mr. Santiago,” Jake greets, peering into the window and giving a salute.

Victor squints at him and nods slightly. “Jake.”

“I see that you’re about to leave, but I really need to talk to Amy.”

“She’s still upstairs with her mother, but they should be out any minute now,” Victor responds gruffly. 

“Alright, well, I’ll try not to keep her,” Jake says. He taps twice on the roof of the car before sprinting up the stairs of the building.

* * *

He does end up keeping her. 

He keeps her for the ten minutes it takes him to bare his soul to her in the semi-darkness of her apartment.

He keeps her for the half-hour it takes her to assure her parents that she’s in good hands, and for him to lug her bags back up to her apartment (they are pretty heavy, okay).

He keeps her for the weeks it takes her to recover from her injuries and get cleared to go back to active duty.

He keeps her for the months it takes for ‘Amy’ to transition to ‘Ames’ and then to ‘Babe’.

He keeps her as they banter and compete and laugh until they cry (and oh, they have lots of stupid good sex, too).

And now he doesn’t have to wonder because he knows: He _can_ give her that happiness after all.

**Author's Note:**

> Feedback is greatly appreciated, as always! ♥


End file.
